A Mother's Fears
by Bounce
Summary: [TCP] A mother fears for the safety of her children after a mutant community center opens near her home.


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**A Mother's Fears.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own the TCP concept. The Crisis Point idea belongs to Rossi._

Note: Thanks to Rossi, Azzy and Mouse Carcass for Betaing this. Any mistakes still in it are mine.

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I don't let my kids walk home from school on their own. Not in this area. Jason is almost 10. He's in Grade 4. He thinks he's old enough to walk home on his own by now, but I don't think it's safe. Sarah, though, she's only 6, and in Grade Prep. I wouldn't be letting her walk home on her own, no matter where we lived. 

I walk in the school gates and look over at the footy oval. Jason and his friends are playing there as usual. They prefer basketball, even play in a Saturday morning competition, but the bigger boys never let them get a turn on the court. He leaps, trying to catch the ball and slips on the wet ground. I wince as he falls flat on his face, in a spray of mud and water. A moment later he's back on his feet and running after the ball, jumper and pants covered in mud. 

Sarah is waiting for me by the door of her classroom. Someone has put her hair up into two messy pigtails. "Hi sweetie. Who did your hair?" 

"Steph did at Big Play. I want to wear it like this tomorrow too." She nods her head so the brown curls bounce in their pigtails. The look does suit her. "And I want to get my ears pierced too! Steph has earrings. Blue ones. They're really cool and they're all dangly and I want some too." 

Steph is an older girl. She's in grade 6. But I'm not going to let my daughter get earrings just because a girl she hero-worships has them. Not 'til she's older. I shake my head. "You are not getting your ears pierced. I've already told you that you can't get them done until you're 9." 

Sarah's lip quivers for a moment. "But…" 

"No." 

She nods, knowing when I'm serious. "Okay mum." 

I frown. "Did you remember to get your Barbie from the show and tell desk?" 

"Yeah." Sarah brightens. "Guess what, Mum! Tom brought his kittens in for us to see for show and tell today and Tom's mum let us all pat them and then the kittens' mummy bit Tracy and Tracy said a bad word and then she was bleeding everywhere and Tracy's not supposed to say bad words, 'cos she's a teacher and…" She takes a deep breath "…then Lucy had to come in and put a Band-Aid on Tracy's hand and Tracy said some more bad words about the cat and then one of the kittens escaped. I helped look for it. It was the little stripy one and we didn't find it for ages and then Nigel found it under the bags, on the floor and then it ran away again, when he tried to catch it. And then Tracy got really mad and said some more bad words. Like you do, when you're mad at Dad." 

Oh hell. She'd heard that? I'd been trying to set a good example by fighting with Luke outside, where the kids couldn't hear. 

"And then we finally got the kitten and Tom's mum said she was really sorry and that she hoped Tracy was okay. And the kittens were really, really cute. Can we get a kitten?" 

I try to hide my smile. Sarah would think I wanted a kitten if I smiled. And then we'd never hear the end of it. "No. Buster would try to eat it. Remember, he tried to eat the rabbits, so we had to send them up to Grandpa's? And kittens are a lot smaller than rabbits. We'd have to get rid of Buster if we did." 

"Oh. I don't want to get rid of Buster." 

"Neither do I." I glance at my watch. It was getting late. I call out: "Jason! C'mon! It's time to go!" He starts heading over to where we are. 

"Mum. Can I stay a bit longer and then walk home after?" 

"No. You know that you aren't allowed to walk home on your own. Have you got your bag?" He nods sullenly and trails after us as we walk out the gate. 

"What do you want to get for tea tonight Jase?" 

Sarah looks up at me angrily. "Mum! It's my week to choose! Jason got to choose last time!" 

I nod. "And you swapped your turn for his chocolate bar yesterday. Remember?" 

"I want to get Macca's," Jason announces. I manage to control my wince. Sarah would have chosen Turkish and then I would have gotten some too. Jason thinks McDonalds is the best thing since sliced bread, and he won't be convinced otherwise. But Thursday is takeaway night, since Luke works the late shift at the Hospital then. And there are too many arguments if I choose what we ete every time, as Sarah won't eat Italian, and Jason hates anything with vegetables in it. 

I hold Sarah's hand tightly as we walk past the mutant Community Centre. There's a young man sitting out the front, reading a book. 

"Is he a mutie?" 

I glare at Sarah. "Don't call people muties! It isn't nice. And yeah, he probably is." 

Jason stares at the boy, who couldn't have been more than 18, as we walk past. He blushes bright red under the scrutiny and hurries inside, giving us a good view of his previously hidden tail. 

"Jason! What have I told you about staring at people?" 

The boy hangs his head and mutters: "Don't." 

I nod and walk a bit faster. I don't like the mutant Community Centre. Yeah, sure, it's got the neatest yard on the street and always looks well cared for but you should see some of the people there. And it's too close to the school. Half the building got destroyed last year: they said a mutant had lost control of his power. They should have been more careful. Someone could have gotten hurt. One of the kids from school, even. Most of them walk down here every morning. 

Someone should do something. 

*** 

I pull the car up outside our house and stare out at the pouring rain. Times like these I really wish we had a place with a covered garage. 

I give a small sigh and open the car door and sprint around to the boot, and tug it open. I manage to snatch up all of the bags of shopping and the backpack holding my yoga gear in one go. I slam the boot shut and hurry inside, trying to ignore the rain soaking through my jumper. I juggle the heavy bags full of groceries and tug the keys back out of my handbag. The door sticks again, as it often does in winter, when the rain makes the wood swell up. I twist and manage to shut the door without dropping anything. "Hello, anyone home?" 

I hear Luke's voice coming from the kitchen. "Hey honey." I drag the bags down the hall and dump them on the table, on top of the Saturday Age's Property section, which Luke is busy poring over. 

"Where are the kids?" 

"Sarah is still at her sleepover at Ruby's. Ruby's mother rang up before and said she'd be dropping her home after lunch. She said they'd been up till almost one AM." 

I wince. Great. Sarah gets really cranky when she's tired. 

"And Jason asked to go round to Alex's after basketball. Alex's older brother Steve is going to walk him home later." 

I nod. "Alright. Did Jase win his basketball match?" 

Luke shakes his head. "No. They lost 10 to 56." 

I snicker. The kids' team always lost, since they'd been bumped up into the Under 12's division. But that was worse than usual. "Was Nathan sick again today?" 

"Yeah." Oy. Nathan was the one good player on the team. With him absent they didn't just lose, they got slaughtered. Every time. 

The doorbell rings. I hurry down the hall to answer it. A young woman, wearing a suit and raincoat stands huddled on the porch. "Hello. My name is Martha, and I'm from the Safer Suburbs Committee. I was wondering if you would sign our petition?" 

Safer Suburbs? I've never heard of them. "What's the petition for?" 

"We want to get the mutant Community Center moved to a non-residential area. We feel that it presents a definite danger to the children and families who live in the district." She pauses, and digs a folder out of her bag. Martha opens it and begins to flick through, stopping on a page filled with bright red lettering. She hands it to me. "These are some statistics showing how having a large mutant population in an area affects crime rates and property values. It's a proven fact that mutant enclaves mean an average increase of about 21 percent in crime rates, and a drop of fifteen percent in property values. The mutant community breeds poverty and crime. These are proven facts ma'am." 

Luke walks down the corridor, curious to see who's at the door. He nods a greeting to Martha and looks down at the pamphlet I hold. 'Mutant child destroys school.' The boy's powers had apparently manifested while he was at school in Adelaide. Five people had died in the accident. There were rows of statistics, showing that the average crime rate in cities around Australia had increased by 10 to 15 percent in the last five years, since mutants had begun to become mainstream. 

And then, towards the bottom of the page, it showed the monthly crime rate statistics for our suburb. They'd increased 23 percent in the year and a half the centre had been open. I thought about the used syringes I'd had pick up from our front yard this morning. And how the little old lady who lived next door to us and gave the kids Easter eggs every year, had her car stolen last month. And the man who had been with the anti-mutant protesters outside the centre last year had had to go to hospital after a mutant woman had set him on fire. 

This just proved what I'd already known. Mutants were dangerous. I didn't want my kids growing up in an area like this. I look at the woman. "I'll sign the petition." 

"No." Luke shakes his head. "This is FOH propaganda. Look." He points to the row of tiny text at the bottom of the page, which reads 'A publication of the Friends of Humanity.' "I can't believe you'd sign something put out by those fascists." 

I look at Luke. "This isn't about the Friends of Humanity. This about our kids and trying to keep them safe!" I snatch Martha's clipboard from her and sign my name at the bottom of the list. Most of our neighbors have already signed it. I offer it to Luke. He takes it and scans the list of names, mouth tightening in disapproval. He silently hands the clipboard back to Martha. 

"I'd appreciate it if you left now." He nods at her, shuts the door and walks back down to the kitchen without once looking at me. 

I stare down the hall at his back, sure I haven't done anything wrong. After a moment I follow Luke and sit down at the table opposite him. 

He looks at me then, from where he stands, leaning against the bench. "I never thought my own wife would do something like that. I never thought you'd follow a group like the FOH in anything." He sounds so tired as he says that. 

I flinch. "I already told you! This isn't about that. I just want to keep our children safe. That's all. Mutants are dangerous." 

He looks at me for a moment. "Don't give me that crap. You know that most mutants are fucking harmless!" 

"But what about the ones that aren't? And what about all the fucking shit that goes on around here since the centre opened? What about all of that?" My voice cracks. 

"Christ Amy! What do you expect happens when people refuse to hire mutants, and landlords won't let them rent houses?" 

"I just want to keep our children safe! Mutants are dangerous. Everybody knows that!" 

Luke turns away from me. His voice is very low as he says: "I never thought I'd married a bigot." 

I flinch. "I'm not a bigot. I'm not a fucking bigot!" 

He doesn't reply. Instead, he picks up his keys and walks out of the room. He calls back as he opens the front door: "I'm heading out for a bit." 

I stare after him, wondering when we had changed. When we had stopped knowing each other. 

*** 

It's late by the time Luke gets home. I'd put the kids to bed hours ago. I told them that he was out visiting some friends. He does that sometimes, visits friends who live way out in the suburbs. He doesn't get back until late when he goes all they way out there. 

He makes fair amount of noise, moving around the kitchen making himself a cup of coffee. A few minutes later he enters our room and undresses for bed. Luke slips between the blankets and rolls over, turning his back to me. 

I'd gone to bed a few hours ago. I'd been unable to sleep and had stared at the ceiling for the next two hours. I roll over and face the wall, pretending to sleep. It's too late to argue about it all over again. I'm tired. I hadn't been sure, not really, that he'd come home tonight. 

It takes me a long time to fall asleep. 

*** 

Jason and Sarah have been up for hours by the time I get up. They always watch the cartoons on Sunday mornings. Jason sometimes tries to fight Sarah for the remote, wanting to watch Video Hits instead, because cartoons are for babies. He never tries that hard though, and isn't too upset if I make him turn the television back to the cartoons instead. 

I give a small smile, remembering a time when I'd been able to sleep in until noon on weekends. It seems like a half remembered dream these days. 

I'm washing up the breakfast dishes by the time Luke gets up. "Morning." 

He mumbles something in reply and makes himself a cup of coffee. Luke has never been a morning person, not for as long as I've known him. 

"Mum. Can I have a glass of milk?" Luke gets up and pours the drink for Sarah. I nod to him in thanks. 

Luke looks at me. "I think we need to have a talk about yesterday." 

I frown, unsure what I should say. He's wrong. That mutant Community Centre is dangerous. I don't care what he bloody well says. Mutants are not harmless. All you have to do is read the papers every day to know that. I look out the window at the backyard. The lawn needs mowing again, and the flowerbeds are being over-run with weeds. 

Sarah yells at Jason: "No! I wanna watch the Lion King! I don't wanna watch stupid Video Hits!" 

"Nuh-uh! That's for babies! I don't wanna watch some stupid baby show." 

"Mum! Jason won't let me watch the Lion King. He's being a fart-face!" 

"I am not! Anyway you're a mutie-lover!" 

I glance over at Luke. "Can we talk about all that later?" I raise my voice: "Jason! Don't let me hear you call your sister a mutie-lover again. I don't want to hear that kind of language in here. Sarah, you can watch the Lion King later. It's on video." 

*** 

I work late on Tuesdays. Luke picks the kids up from school. It's almost ten before I get home. The kids are generally in bed by then. Once in a while though, Luke'll let Jason stay up till I get home. 

Jason is sitting perched on the edge of the couch, staring at the television. '…over twenty people died in the explosion. Another eight are injured, including the children's teacher, Thomas Avery. I repeat, over twenty people died in the explosion, which was caused when a mutant child's powers unexpectedly manifested while she was at school. The mutant, a girl named Polly Smith, was among the dead…' The screen shows the smoking ruins of a building. The gum tree next to it had been badly burnt. There are buildings in the background. Portables. A group of children and adults huddle together on the far side of the oval, as far from the destroyed building as possible. Paramedics, police and firefighters mill around the survivors. In the foreground is a small sign. 'Trentham Primary School'. I reach out and pull the remote from Jason's hand and turn the television off. 

He turns to look at me, his face twisted in confusion. "Why did she blow up the building?" 

I shake my head, mutely. "I don't think she did it on purpose Jase. She just didn't know that she was a mutant." 

"But. She killed all of those people." I sit down on the couch beside him and give my son a tight hug. I wish someone would do something about the mutant problem. Because they are dangerous. You only have on turn on the television to know that. 

I knew I was right. It's fair enough understanding Luke's 'socio political context' that mutants function in. But the thing is, this is not an abstract discussion. It's about our children. 

I think about my children and I pray that nothing ever happens to them. 

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